


Old Habits

by longlostintentions



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Blind!Ignis, Canon Disabled Character, Cooking Lessons, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Like just depression angst, M/M, happy ending I promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-24 07:18:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13806222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/longlostintentions/pseuds/longlostintentions
Summary: What made Ignis start cooking again? Turns out he just needed a little push.





	Old Habits

**Author's Note:**

> I'm in the middle of writing a longer fic, but I had to get this bug out because it kept distracting me!

      The air was cold, and getting colder as the sun set. Even though it had only been a few weeks since they'd lost the Chosen King, the sun was starting to set earlier. No, not lost. Temporarily misplaced. They couldn't afford to think like that. For the time being, they'd returned to Caem, it felt safest. It felt like a good place to gather intel and wait it out to see what would become of their star. Iris was digging up potatos for dinner and Ignis was keeping her company. Well, really his job was to place them in the basket, but the nature of the job was akin to asking a child to “help” clean with a toy vacuum and that did not escape him. Still, he'd learned to appreciate the consideration. Iris had a way of helping him without pity or coddling, something she would never really understand how much it meant to him. She placed a potato in his outstretched hand and he automatically placed it in the basket next to him, already full of peppers, peas and carrots. Her voice startled him out of his trance.

“Do you miss cooking?” she asked, all curiosity and no pity. He nodded.

“Very much so.”

She handed him another potato.

“Have you tried since?” she asked. He couldn't keep a bitter laugh from escaping.

“I'm not certain that it wouldn't end in a house fire.”

He caught himself and changed his tone. The poor girl was a constant source of optimism in this war, a fact for which they were all thankful, and she deserved better.

“It's fortunate you're here, I've heard you're quite the cook yourself,” he said with a smile. To his relief, the sound of her giggling reached him. That was more like it.

“Y'know I kinda hoped one day I could learn under you. Like... A mentor,” she mused. Ignis took a controlled breath.

“I'm flattered. I'm sorry it never worked out as such,” he said softly. The sound of her work ceased and he turned to face her.

“Well who says we can't still practice?” she asked, he could hear the hope in her voice. It made him uneasy.

“I'm not sure--” he began, but she shuffled closer and shook his shoulder.

“Please! If anyone can do it, you can!” she pleaded. Really, how could he say no? There was a desperation in her voice he'd never heard before, maybe this was her way of dealing with everything. They all needed some sense of normalcy right now. Ignis sighed but relented, giving her a nod.

“Well I suppose it couldn't hurt... I certainly haven't forgotten _how_ to cook...” he tested, and she jumped to her feet.

“Yes!” she exclaimed and tugged his hand. He smiled and stood, grabbing the basket.

“Are you gonna help with dinner tonight?” she prodded.

“I don't think Monica would appreciate the extra body in the kitchen. Another time, just us,” he offered. Iris held onto his arm, leaning against him in the warm way she approached everyone with, and walked with him back to the house.

 

      The first thing Ignis noticed when he woke was the absence of Gladio's arm around his body, which felt strange and empty. For Gladio to have woken up before him was unusual, though not impossible. It must be later than he thought. He grabbed his glasses and put them on instinctively, he probably wouldn't break the habit for a while. His cane gripped tightly in his hand, he felt his way through the room with muscle memory. From there the bannister helped him off the landing and down the stairs. When he reached the bottom, Gladio's voice floated to him from across the room, along with the sound of a plate hitting the counter.

“Bout time you got up.”

Ignis smiled and moved towards the voice, counting his steps. 1, 2, 3: next to him a chair dragged across the floor at the dining table.

“Is it so late?” he asked. 4, 5, 6: his cane caught on the half wall dividing off the kitchen.

“Late for you, since when do you sleep in 'till 11?” Gladio harped affectionately. Ignis felt his way around the counter.

“Must've been up later than I thought,” he contemplated. 7, 8, 9: a rough hand came up and brushed through his hair and he could feel Gladio's warmth next to him. A quick kiss to his temple lifted the corners of his mouth.

“Good morning,” he addressed whoever was sitting at the table.

“Morning, sir!” Talcott chirped in reply.

“Hungry?” Gladio asked, and didn't wait for a reply before pushing a plate into Ignis's hands and trading his cane for a spatula.

“Well evidently 'No' is not an option,” Ignis quipped with a smile, the only guidance he received was his hand led to the pan on the stovetop. While he served himself, he could hear things being put on his plate. It's a good thing he wasn't picky.

      Ignis was on the couch, listening to his phone read out a book he'd downloaded to it, when the light bouncy footsteps of Iris tapped into the room. The couch next to him dipped and he could hear purring, the stray cat they'd befriended. He paused the book with a smile and reached over to pet the cat's soft head.

“Are you ready for our first practice session?” Iris asked. Ignis nodded and set his phone down to take a sip of his coffee.

“You certainly don't waste time,” he responded. The cat scrambled out of Iris's arms pulling a soft 'Hey” from her and climbed into his own lap. He laughed and gave the cat a stroke before picking it up and putting it back in the approximate area of her lap.

“So what's the first step?” she declared with determination. He hummed thoughtfully and grabbed his cane, maneuvering to the kitchen. The cat mewled as it jumped to the ground and it's paws skittered across the floor.

“I think the most beneficial thing right now would be to re-learn this kitchen,” he decided, and found his way in front of the stove as a starting point. Off to his right, Iris shifted on her feet.

“Okay.. Hmm.... Okay drawer to your left,” she instructed, and he ghosted his hand over the handle.

“Cooking tools. Cupboard just below,” and he bent carefully to open the cupboard, hearing a clank from inside.

“Pots and pants!”

“Okay go to the left!” Iris sounded like she was enjoying this a little much, but really he was in no position to complain. He nodded and obeyed.

1, 2: “There! There's the sink.” He experimentally reached out and found the faucet.

“On the counter to the left is the spice rack!”

He frowned and reached out timidly so as not to knock anything over.

“This will be the tricky part, identifying spices,” he said, grabbing one of the spice shakers.

“Smell will be generally effective but there are some spices that have very little scent, or smell similar to each other,” he explained, twisting off the top and smelling. Coriander. He replaced it as Iris made a contemplative noise. He reached up to a cupboard over his head.

“What's here?” he pressed on.

“Oh! Plates, and then bowls. The cupboard next door is cups and mugs...” she sounded like she was listing things off on her fingers. He moved to the left and reached out to find thin double doors.

“That's the pantry,” Iris was suddenly much closer. He opened it and reached out for a light. He found a cord hanging in front of him from the ceiling.

“I don't suppose it's organized....” he mused.

“Ah... Not... Really...” Iris said apologetically.

“We'll work on it.”

The thundering footsteps of Gladio came down the stairs and stopped in front of the kitchen.

“Are you guys... Cooking?” he asked curiously, and there's a smile in his voice. Suddenly the thought of anyone watching him practice cooking again was absolutely agonizing, there's no way that would happen if he could help it. He and Iris talked over each other with conflicting answers.

“Yeah!”  
“No!”

He could feel their eyes on him, and it made him turn his face away. Next to him, Iris gave a little stomp.

“Aw come on! What about practice?” she protested. He smiled at her.

“I think today is best spent memorizing the kitchen; soon, I assure you,” he apologized. She sighed.

“Alriiiight. You better not flake out!” she shouted as she absconded. Ignis bowed a little.

“Wouldn't dream of it.”

 

      Later, as Ignis went to sit on the bed already occupied by a reading Gladio (if the soft whisper of pages and breathing was anything to go on), Gladio's free hand immediately went to work idly palming over his back. The feeling made him sigh contentedly.

“Never seen you act self-conscious, ' _specially_ about cooking,” he teased. Of course he wasn't lucky enough for it to go unnoticed. After a minute of silence the bed rustled as two hands grabbed him and tugged him further onto the bed against a warm body. After a few more page flips, Ignis smiled grimly.

“A matter of pride, I suppose,” he conceded. The page turning paused.

“So you're just gonna quit so you wont fuck it up?” he scolded.

“No, Iris would never let up if I tried, but I'd prefer some privacy until I can perform the basics without making a fool of myself.”

He could feel Gladio's laugh rumbling through them and couldn't help smiling a little himself.

      The next morning an immediate melancholy settled over him as he regained consciousness and heard the rain pouring on the roof. Gladio was still breathing slowly next to him and he wanted to be comforted by it, but a seed of frustration had taken hold in the back of his mind. It was something he hadn't been able to voice to his companions. He sometimes felt irrational with how many days he felt hopeless and, even worse, useless. It wasn't something he was used to feeling, and for all that he loved Gladio he felt an absolute certainty that he wouldn't understand. Lost in thought he'd picked up his glasses, but the anger in his mind took over and slammed the glasses back onto the nightstand.

“If you break those you're gonna kick your own ass,” Gladio grumbled tiredly. Ignis hadn't even noticed him wake up.

“Apologies, didn't mean to wake you,” he said, trying to level his voice.

“Didn't,” Gladio responded, sitting up and stretching with a groan. He got up and started to leave, grabbing his arm to help him up in what Ignis supposed was meant to be an affectionate gesture. But the frustration was already making a home in him, and he snatched his arm away.

“I still know how to stand, thank you,” he said tersely, working his way towards the door in what he hoped was a confident manner. Naturally, he instantly regretted it, but it was too late to go back now. He was just so tired of being led around like a dog on a leash. As they descended the stairs Iris called out to them.

“Morning!” she piped enthusiastically. Or as enthusiastically as she could sounding like she didn't sleep at all. She even punctuated it with a long yawn. Ignis murmured a polite greeting and kept counting steps.

“Stay up late?” Gladio asked over by the table.

“Only till like 2,” Iris responded, yawning again.

“What the hell were you doing?” he asked, surprised. Iris gave a non-commital noise. In the kitchen Ignis made a point of getting his own plate and going to serve himself. The problem was that reaching for a utensil was a bit of a gamble, one that he lost as his hand touched the side of the hot pan. It made him hiss in pain and recoil. Gladio was there in a couple strides.

“Alright?” he asked, grabbing his wrist gently.

“I'm fine!” he snapped, pushing past him and going back upstairs. Logically he could have rinsed his hand in the kitchen sink, but he needed to isolate himself before he did something he'd regret even more. In the bathroom, the cold water made his hand sting, but at least the wound seemed superficial. He took the opportunity to splash his face, trying to relax. He went back into the bedroom, he wasn't very hungry anyways.

 

      There was a tense moment when Gladio came back into the room later, but he didn't mention the outburst. Instead, from the noises he was making, it seemed like he was working out. That was always how he worked off stress. Ignis was sitting on their bed, listening to his book. Any other day it would have been peaceful to both be in the same room doing their own things. Apparently that wasn't in the cards. Ignis laid back on the bed and found a book under his head. He'd meant to just pick it up and set it aside, but holding it in his hands made him realize how long it had been since he held a book with the intention of reading it. The anger was overwhelming, and instead his arm launched the book across the room with a shout. The thud of it hitting the wall and the flutter of the pages as it fell was almost satisfying.

“Woah! Alright...” Gladio said and stood with a groan. Ignis prepared himself for conflict, but instead he felt the bed next to him dip and a hand set comfortably on the back of his neck. In silence it worked on him, making him relax despite himself. He knew he owed him at least some kind of explanation, but he didn't know how to even begin.

“I gave... Everything to protect Noctis, and they still took him.”

For a minute they sat in silence, with the hand still rubbing the back of his neck, occasionally dipping odwn to his shoulders.

“Yeah... Yeah you did. And it's not fucking fair,” Gladio finally spoke. There wasn't a “but” or a “get over it”, just validation. His chest starts to lighten, the fire burning itself out. Maybe he'd underestimated Gladio's level of understanding. He opened his mouth to apologize but there's a knock at the door first. So he just ushered it in instead. The door opened and for a minute there was silence. Then Iris skipped in.

“Hey, you ready for our lesson?” she stopped in front of Ignis and asked accusingly. Ignis smiled tiredly.

“I'm thinking not today, sweetheart. I'm feeling out of sorts.”

“C'monnnnnn Iggy! You can't give up before we even started!” she insisted, and he felt two small hands grabbing his to tug at him in a gesture that reminded him remarkably of Noctis with a pang.

“Iris...” Gladio warned, but Ignis put up a hand to stop him.

“You're absolutely right, lead the way,” he encouraged, standing.

 

      Ignis calibrated himself in front of the stove and followed his memory. He bent down and grabbed a pot from the cupboard, holding it out to Iris.

“I thought we might try a simple pasta dish, today,” he suggested. He felt his way around to the pantry.

“Second shelf from the top!” Iris said over the tap. He counted shelves and felt around, trying to familiarize himself with the contents. Bread, canned foods, jars, pasta, tea boxes, cleaning products.

“You know for not being organized this pantry is incredibly.... Organized,” he mused. Iris laughed and the pot clanged on the stove.

“I organized it silly.”

Ignis grabbed a package of pasta and turned towards her.

“Is _that_ what you were doing last night?” he asked incredulously, heading towards the sound and putting the package on the counter. He cautiously searched for the ignition dials.

She gently nudged his hand up to the back of the stove.

“Well it's not the _only_ thing I did,” she chastised. Ignis sidled over past the sink and reached for the spice rack, might as well set aside all the one's they'd use. He grabbed one and started to unscrew the lid, but stopped when he felt something different under his thumb. Small bumps, like rhinestones, lined up in a pattern. It took a few strokes to realize it spelled a word.

_SALT_

That definitely hadn't been there before. His pulse quickened a little as he grabbed another one and felt along the side. Sure enough, more bumps.

_THYME_

“Did you....?”

Iris laughed, probably at his speechlessness.

“Uh, yeah?” she replied.

“Iris...” he breathed. She clearly didn't realize how much it meant to him. Maybe it was a little heightened from his volatile mood today. It didn't stop him from pulling her into a gentle hug.

“Thank you,” he murmured and she giggled against his chest before pulling away.

“So what first?” she asked. He stood up straighter and grabbed the salt, using a location of the heat to judge what was safe to touch. Perhaps, slowly, his confidence would come back, and he'd fight that uselessness one cooking lesson at a time.

“Well that depends whether you'd like to make a sauce.”

 

 


End file.
